Illogical Suffering
by Daphneshaggydoo
Summary: It is illogical... the Captain can't be dead...Follow Spock as he tries to figure out which way to deal with his feelings of grief...the Vulcan or Human way? Takes place between Star Trek VI and Generations - Spock's POV


"Illogical Oddities"  
>By: Nicole Karnes<p>

" _Lost. He is lost. Gone forever. I should have been with him, saved him. The needs of the one, outweigh…" _It was hard for him to concentrate on the ceremony, especially the words of honor and faith traveling past his ears. This should not be happening. Immediately after the accident there was no body found, not even a spec of DNA in the atmosphere of space dust. Was he truly gone forever?

He wasn't there. Why wasn't he there? Surely his Vulcan logic and teachings could have gotten them out of the scenario which took his life, but no, he had to be off on a side mission for the Vulcan Embassy. Things would have been different, destiny changed, fate fought off; they would be not grieving now. Too much grief for a man gone from this world far too soon. Why were they not finding a body? Giving the mass something physical to mourn over. Why did they give up the search? This was not a war, an "every man for himself" mission! This was a mission of peace, of joining yet another world with so many others who were leading a goal towards galactic peace. Could the Gateway have had something to do with this? No…no that monstrosity was halfway across the other side of the galaxy. But, could the Gatekeeper help me gain back Captain Kirk? Should I truly go against Starfleet Command on what would be surely known as a "fool's mission"?

Jim did not give up on finding me so should I not do the same in return? He spearheaded the capture and robbery of a stolen Federation vessel for crying out loud! Would it be so wrong of me to go against my logical upbringing in order to do the same for one of my only true friends?

"_The needs of the one, sometimes, outweigh the needs of the many."_

But that statement was backwards and I knew such. I needed to be strong; sit and meditate for hours, perhaps even days, in order to find a solution, no, an answer to this interstellar mystery. Captain James Tiberius Kirk was…is…no ordinary man; he would not have given in to death so easily. Surely he found a way out of it, out of death, stranded out there on an asteroid perhaps. He needed saved.  
>But if he is still truly out there among the stars surviving by some miracle surely there would have been some sort of sign by now. James Kirk wasn't one to just sit around and wait on someone to save him. He was no damsel in distress, far from it, actually it was usually him saving the damsels. Jim knows how to build crude communicators and construct numerous amounts of SOS signals, but, why hadn't he done so?<p>

I take a moment on the observation deck to gaze out into what everyone deemed as the final remnants of the great Captain Kirk, however wrong they might be. Anyone will tell you that a body would not turn into star dust upon an explosion but at this point I had no idea what was true or false and for now I simply knew the facts that led to something I could not bear to believe…

And that, was the death of James Tiberius Kirk.

Now standing as officiate over his funeral I can feel nothing, but, this is not because of my Vulcan blood or upbringing. In laments terms, I am still in shock. My mind is battling, Vulcan and human halves challenging each other for control of my skin. Should I remain cold and conservative, taking the pokes and prods from people who think I do not care, or should my human half prevail, turning me into a sniveling wreck of a science officer?

Personally, I prefer the former.  
>Dr. McCoy on the other hand prefers the later. He has tried numerous times over the past week to get me to express myself, even threatening to order me to bed rest through what privileges and pull he has as a medical officer yet he knew I could not be swayed. I must commend the doctor though, he has defended me against those who believe me to be uncaring about this catastrophic loss, telling them that Vulcan's grieve in their own way so to leave me alone. It feels like for once he is on my side and yet I know that a small piece of him is still yelling at me in his usual way, calling me a green-blooded hobgoblin.<p>

Just yesterday the good doctor tried again to sway me, and, though I loath to admit it, I almost gave in. This ship needed leadership now, someone to stand strong, not for their science officer to go looney on them. He tried yet again today, only moments ago, thinking that being near a bunch of grieving people would allow myself to finally release the emotions.

"Damn it Spock, I'm a doctor, not a psychiatrist! Hell, I'm not even a counselor, but I do know that even with all that Vulcan logic you've spat on about over the years there is no way you'll be able to hold all of that in forever; it will eat you alive man."

And for all intents and purpose he is right, but my trained mind still won't allow me to express anything. It simply would not be logical.

The final songs plays, friends and what little family alive leaves, heading towards the feast awaiting them just across town in celebration of his life. I do not move, simply stay staring at the portrait of Jim, numb from everything overcoming me. Dr. McCoy had been right after all; every feeling spawned from this since the beginning has finally come to a head, numbing me. Is this what Kolinahr* feels like? I don't even fight when someone grasps my shoulder and leads me from my seat, ignore the murmuring as I am led to a flitter and sat in the passenger seat. For some reason, I sense that I am safe and because of that I finally let my tears fall in grief.

I believe my mother would be proud, I've finally let my human half be free.

It is difficult to see Spock this way and I believe, after this, no one would ever see him this way again. I sincerely believe that if I had not guided him out after the service that he would have stayed there the entire night and well into the next day. Would he have ever left the building all? I think perhaps he would, but, the only place someone would find him would have to be the cemetery; for even though there isn't actually a body, there is still a stone for remembrance.

How exactly did one care for a grief stricken Vulcan? Researching the topic would definitely be out of the question, since there would obviously be no text regarding such a thing. Should I send a message to his mother? Would she be able to help her son distinguish his emotions? Perhaps I should search the data banks for information regarding the brother I heard that Spock had… Sybok I believe it was? From the stories I heard he was one of the only emotional full blooded Vulcans known of in existence but I doubt there would be any information on him, after all he was exiled from his own home world. Why an unemotional race would keep tabs on an exiled emotional one of their kind is something I don't believe is done normally.

I come out of the kitchen, brandishing two glasses and a bit of Vulcan wine; perhaps a small swish of it would loosen him up a bit. Not too much though. Should I have cut it with Altair Water?

"Come on Spock, take a drink for me, please?"

On some level he heard me for he wrapped his hand around mine and slowly drank what little I put into the glass. Maybe some part of him had the same idea as I had. Or perhaps not. Could his human side know the condemnations of drink? Would he be foolish enough to drink so much to forget?

No, certainly Spock wouldn't do something as "human" as that!

Knowing what Vulcan wine did to me if I drank too much of it, I left his glass, now half full, along with the actual bottle, alone for a while to see if he would pop himself out of it.

I left him alone for several hours, continuing to let him separate himself from reality and heal himself in his own time. Maybe he put himself into one of those "healing trances" I'd heard tell about. How would that fix your emotions though? While I was sure that in some way the silence was helping him I didn't understand the actual quiet, however, was driving me insane. Hoping that it would not bother Spock too much, I crept over to the stereo system and started up some smooth jazz, letting it wisp its way about the room. It wasn't even a minute before his voice joined that of the saxophone. I hadn't realized he was that far in touch with reality.

"This was Jim's favorite song."

My eyes widened, I had no idea. I began to make my way to stop the music only to have a hand grasp my wrist, stopping me cold. How had he made it over to me so quickly?

"Please, don't."

Never once had I heard him say "please" and it sounded so foreign coming out of his mouth. My thoughts were thwarted though when he finally brought his head up and gazed around the room.

"Where am I?"

"My apartment. I couldn't stand to see you left there with only an empty room for company. Unlike most of the others I can see how much you're suffering. I've worked with you too long not to notice the signs."

Finally, he looked up to see exactly who his companion was. "Christine?" She looked different; older, wiser, gray was in her temples. Suddenly he was afraid. Though he didn't exactly show it, I could feel it through the connection of his hand to my wrist. He was part of a telepathic people after all. Why exactly was he touching me anyways? Isn't that some kind of sacred rule amongst his people? Never touch another?

I was surprised even more when he made his way back to his seat, with me in tow, tugged me down into his lap, wrapped both arms around me, and reclined farther back into the couch; laying my head against his chest and stroking my hair. I could still feel his mind within mine, not exactly probing through it but just simply being there; he couldn't keep everything bottle up for long and I knew it, not with this hitting so close to home. The loudest thing I could sense from him was fear…but…my Spock had never been afraid of anything before…right? I don't mean anything to him so why share such a side of himself with me?

"_You are wrong Christine."_ His voice echoed in my mind and swiftly I was shown every memory he had of me, and felt all that I meant to him. Why had he kept it hidden for so long? Would their relationship have turned into something more if she hadn't of left her post so long ago?

"_You can't Christine." _He sounded desperate, I could feel a tear land on my head. _"For the love of whatever Gods are out there don't leave me."_ His nails were pinching into her skin, just as hers had begun to on his own person. _"I don't want to be alone."_

I could tell that he'd misunderstood what I'd been thinking but I knew that at this point there'd be no point in trying to explain it to him. I gently begin playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, swirling around my finger what little I could. "Never Spock… you will never be alone again."

To show him just how deep her feelings still went for him, I drew my index and middle finger up into his line of sight next to his two, slowly caressing them; the Vulcan sign of affection.

"_And I love you too… my Christine."_

And he did the one thing that she'd longed the most for yet feared she'd never obtain, for within the next few seconds his fingers left hers, traveled up to caress her cheek, then drew her face closer to his own. With the smallest, most insignificant little peck, he'd kissed me before slowly drawing himself away, fearing, she supposed, he'd not done it right. A quick jolt of her head brought their lips together again, this time for a longer, more sensual kiss.

One that proved to Christine that not only did his Vulcan half adore her, but his human half as well; showing that he truly did love her, with all of his soul.


End file.
